


We're All Okay

by elliebird



Series: Previously Posted Roswell, New Mexico Fic (2019) [4]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Aftercare, Coda, Episode Tag, M/M, Massage, Missing Scene, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:22:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22767691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliebird/pseuds/elliebird
Summary: A missing scene for episode 1x02.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: Previously Posted Roswell, New Mexico Fic (2019) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636822
Comments: 18
Kudos: 84





	We're All Okay

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on 02.02.19

The air in the trailer is thick with the scent of sex. 

Michael rolls to his back and Alex misses him with a sudden ferocity that takes his breath away. He turns his head into Michael’s shoulder, hides his face in his damp skin. There’s only so much soul baring he can handle in an afternoon. 

Michael brushes a kiss to Alex’s temple. He collapses into the pillows, his arm above his head, body in one long stretch. “Fuck,” he sighs. 

Alex hasn’t quite caught his breath. He wants to say something about how good it was just now. It feels awkward, so he says nothing. He settles on his side. The last of the daylight is fading fast and in the dim light in the Airstream he can make out the sweat sliding down Michael’s cheek, and the beginnings of a bruise blossoming beneath his jaw. 

Alex reaches out, carefully turning Michael’s head with fingers on his chin. The hickey is small and pink, an imprint of Alex’s mouth that looks just as intimate as it would if Alex had left it on the soft flesh of Michael’s hip or the inside of his thigh. 

“Sorry,” Alex mumbles, tracing it with his thumb. He’s not sorry at all. He remembered the spot on Michael’s neck that made his toes curl. With Michael’s weight on him, his hips keeping him pinned to the bed, Alex had hidden his face in Michael’s throat, clinging to him and trying to keep from embarrassing himself. 

The sound Michael makes is pure satisfaction, like he’s pleased down to the depths of his soul. He turns his head and gives Alex a wicked smile. “I’m not.” 

It’s sexy on him, like the scruff shadowing his jaw and the trail of hair beneath his belly button Alex wants to map with his mouth and hands. 

“If you keep doing that,” Michael says, a husky tone to his voice, “I’m going to take it as an invitation.” 

Alex smiles, deliberately sliding his eyes down Michael’s torso to where his cock rests, still mostly hard, against his belly. He was always insatiable. 

Michael’s surprise and glee lights up his face. “Careful, private,” he warns. He wraps his fingers around Alex’s arm, his thumb on the pulse beneath the thin skin on his wrist. 

Alex hasn’t felt playful or light in a decade. The last few months, being back in Roswell, have been rough. This is the first time he’s felt a little like himself. 

“Are you hungry?” Michael hasn’t stopped touching him. 

“I could eat,” Alex says. It’s been hours since he walked into Michael’s trailer, hoping he would follow, that he hadn’t fucked this up. 

“Come on. I’m craving fajitas,” Michael says, pressing a fleeting kiss to Alex’s wrist in a move so smooth Alex wants to give him hell for it. His throat’s suddenly too tight. 

Alex moves to sit up and immediately hisses, pain shooting through his hip. He tries to mask it, turning away from Michael to settle his foot on the floor but Michael stops him. 

“What’s wrong?” Michael sits up, his warmth against Alex’s back. 

“It’s nothing,” Alex says. It’s a sharp pain he’s used to that will settle eventually. Pain is a part of his life these days. 

Alex moves to reach for the sleeve for his leg and Michael makes a frustrated sound. “Alex, damn it,” Michael says. “What’s wrong.” He doesn’t let him go. He’s not aggressive in his insistence, though. He touches Alex, leans into him, like he’s happy to wait him out. 

Alex’s head falls forward, pleasure down his spine, his skin tingling from Michael’s lips. He gives in. “The prosthetic,” Alex explains, hating that he has to. “When I wear it for a while, my back hurts.” 

He kisses the back of Alex’s neck, trails his lips to his shoulder. “Let me do something about that.” The playful edge to his voice eases the tension in Alex’s throat and chest. Maybe he can do this. 

With his lips on the bump of the top of his spine, Michael digs his fingers into the meat of Alex’s hip. 

A groan from the depths of his core rumbles up out of him before he can help it. He tenses up, not quite ready for this level of intimacy. His body is a reminder of his trauma. Michael is from a time in his life free from all of it. He doesn’t know if he can handle sharing it. 

Michael doesn’t ease his pressure on Alex’s skin. He turns his head and rests his cheek where his mouth was. “Alex,” he says, his voice soft, safe, encouraging. “Relax.” 

Alex has forgotten how. 

His defenses crumble around Michael. He’s learned how to adapt, how to hold some of himself back even when his heart is longing to give everything he has. The tenderness in the way Michael touches him now is almost unbearable. 

Alex inhales and hates the shuddering way it moves through him. He leans back, into Michael and all his naked warmth. He’s damp from the heat and smells like the desert. When Alex lets his head fall back against Michael’s shoulder, it feels like a gift when Michael gives him a soft kiss on the vulnerable, exposed slope of his throat. 

“Lie down,” Michael says with his lips on his skin, the rhythm of it echoing through his body, down his spine to all of the deepest places where his want for Michael has always lived. 

Alex hesitates. The trailer is mostly dark now, just the glow of an emergency light throwing shadows across the walls. This is a heavier intimacy even than earlier when Michael had Alex’s cock down his throat and a hand between his thighs. 

When Alex doesn’t move, Michael says, “Alex. Let me do this,” like he gets how fucking difficult it is for Alex to let anyone look after him. 

It’s the understanding that makes it easier to nod and let Michael give him the space to get on his front in the narrow bed that smells like sex and Michael. He rests his head on a folded arm and lets his eyes slip shut. 

It’s so fucking intimate. Naked and completely at ease in his body, Michael straddles Alex’s thighs. Alex digs his teeth into his lower lip, welcoming the weight of Michael on him. 

Michael touches him again, his hands slick with lotion that has a subtle, heady scent. Alex tenses up. He hates himself for it but he can’t help it. He’s different. This body he lives in is different. 

Michael digs into the flesh of Alex’s bad hip where the soreness lives. The pleasure is so good it makes his breath catch. He arches up into it, into the easy way Michael touches him like he remembers Alex’s body. Alex settles into the mattress with his hips and chest, wanting to dissolve into the bed. Michael makes a pleased sound, this sexy little catch in his chest and rewards Alex with a little more pressure, his thumb finding a spot that makes light spark behind his eyelids. 

Michael has strong hands. Even his bad hand, with only a fraction of the strength he used to have, knows how to ease the ache that sometimes feels like another new part of him he has to learn to live with. 

It’s only been a few minutes since his orgasm but Alex feels his body turning on, responding to Michael’s hands, the shape of his thighs framing his hips, the smell of him. It ratchets up in intensity, from the quiet pressure of Michael’s hands on his skin to the labored breaths Alex takes, punctuated with the occasional moan he can’t quite keep from slipping out. 

Alex finds a place where he feels like he’s floating. It’s not the space between being awake and asleep but something deeper, more intense than that. He’s anchored here, to Michael, present but also light like he’s drifting. It’s foreign, unsettling. 

Michael unfolds himself along the length of Alex’s back, his body hot and aroused. “You feel so fucking good,” Michael says hoarsely, tucking his chin into Alex’s shoulder and straining to kiss him. It’s an awkward angle and his lips only just catch the corner of Alex’s mouth but it’s hot and the urgency humming through Michael matches the ache in Alex’s core. 

“Better?” Michael mumbles, dragging his mouth across Alex’s cheek, leaving behind skin that feels scorched. 

Alex hides his face in the pillows, trying not to rock his hips into the bed until he comes. “I’m so fucking hard,” he admits breathlessly when Michael tangles his fingers in Alex’s hair and urges his head up. 

Michael’s response is a sound like being sucker punched. “Fuck, Alex,” he grits out. He leans his forehead on Alex’s shoulder. “You drive me fucking insane.” The words are whispered and like this with Michael's breath on his skin and his body covering Alex like a human blanket, they feel like an endearment, a confession. A promise. 

Michael rolls off him and settles on his side, urging Alex do the same. They fit their legs together, hips connecting, bellies touching, skin to skin so they can feel the beat of each other’s pulse. 

“Thanks,” Alex mumbles, unable to meet Michael’s eyes. He feels raw, stripped bare and it’s safer to settle on the wet shape of his mouth, the stubble, his dimple. 

“Dinner?” Michael says hoarsely. 

Alex’s heart settles in his throat. Michael is beautifully turned on, heavy lidded eyes and wet mouth. He tugs Michael down to him, fingers tightening in his hair. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I'm on [Tumblr](https://elliebirdthings.tumblr.com/)


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